The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #6: "Who The Hell Is Alfred?"

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Alfred Haters Club)

Ben: Are you alright sir?

Donnie: (trying to hide wiping his eyes) …what?…yes, of course…shit Ben! Why are you still here?

Ben: I’m kind of like your Alfred sir.

Donnie: Alfred?

Ben: Alfred.

Donnie: Alfred?

Ben: Batman? His butler?

Donnie: Oh, butler. Yes, I get butler.

Ben: No, not just A butler, an any butler, but Alfred, THE butler. Batman’s butler.

Donnie: Sorry Ben, I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Ben: I’m like Alfred sir, the butler to Batman? Alfred? It would make you a superhero?

Donnie: But if you’re a butler why do you have to have a name? It’s not good practice to personalize the help with names Ben, like they’re almost equals. Single digit numbers work best, especially for me. And why do I have to be a superhero? I’m the President (side slide step) “can’t touch this!” and soon you legally won’t be able to touch this (side slide step back) “Got a little SCOTUS in my pocket going jing-a-ling-a-ling”. All my butlers were just butler…”hey butler do this…hey butler do that…hey butler there’s something in my teeth floss me…hey butler cover for me while I go do sex stuff…I mean aren’t all butlers just…you know…butler? Or secret service agents?

Ben: But sir. I could be your butler Alfred. Did you hear me say superhero? This treehouse could be your superhero lair.

Donnie: Lair?

Ben: Like a cave. Your superhero cave.

Donnie: But this is a tree Ben. You’re confusing me now. And aren’t caves kind of dank?

Ben: Ok, shouldn’t have mentioned caves. Just a more comfortable point of reference. But I could have all sorts of superhero stuff for you sir, right here in the treehouse. Every time you’d come home to the treehouse I could have new toys that would help you in your fight against the scourge of liberal elites and truth and the…

Donnie: Toys? You’re not getting weird on me are you Ben?

Ben: What?…Oh God No!

Donnie: ’cause that’s not my thing. Well…

Ben: …Oh, I’m sure it’s not sir…not your thing…I get it. But I could have all these cool gadgets & weapons ready at your disposa…

Donnie: …Ben, just stop. How about you just NOT be Alfred ok, or Ben and just be butler? Sorry, just be Ben, not butler, and stop trying to get me to use toys with you. Not now anyway. Where the hell were we?

Ben: I was asking if you were crying?

Donnie: …what?…no, of course not! I don’t…Trumps don’t cry Ben. We don’t even know what crying is.

Ben: Well, it’s when you get upset, when some sort of emotional trauma produces a physical response, like say, tears…

Donnie: Shut up Ben. Tears? You don’t think these are tears do you?

Ben: You are wiping your eyes on your sleeve. Looks kinda like a sponge right now, like you could wring it out and drown a cat.

Donnie: Cat’s again?

Ben: Well, they’re furry and cuddly and I’m just trying to protect them. I’m just concerned for the cats…but is it the children sir?

Donnie: Children? What children?

Ben: The one’s at the border sir.

Donnie: What children at the border?

Ben: The children at the border sir. The one’s you’ve ripped away from their parents and put in camps with your racist, black hearted Draconian prevention policy?  You know, the children and toddlers you’ve justified doing this to because they could be gang leaders? Is it these children that you have no plan for reuniting with their families that you’re crying for?

Donnie: (waves hand slightly in Ben’s direction) …there are no children…

Ben: ?

Donnie: …these aren’t the children you’re looking for Ben.

Ben: You’re not trying to use some sort of Obi Wan Jedi thing on me are you?

Donnie: Dammit! I’ve been practicing that one too. It works really well on Kellyanne.

Ben:  Well, she is kind of dim. Recent marathon on TV?

Donnie: Yeh.

Ben: I watched it too.

Donnie: I love those first three.

Ben: You do? Really?

Donnie: Yeh, love how Palpatine really comes into his own. And that Jar Jar, funny motherfucker…and with a silly accent. Accents are just funny aren’t they? Not American of course, he should have been American, should have been forced to be American, but still funny.

Ben: You know those are just movies right? Fictional?

Donnie: Well, of COURSE I do (note to self: “shit! not historically accurate”)…but the sleight of hand wave, or for me, the heavy handed, poorly spoken overenunciated pursed lipped double hand pressed thumb/finger points racism wave works so well on the base.

Ben: I know it does sir. But they also actually believe you to be a truthful man. Or just don’t care.

Donnie: Good point.

Ben: Plus, Obi Wan isn’t really you’re style.

Donnie: Right. Just dissapeared from the fight. Whoooosh, gone. Pile of clothes. Pussy.

Ben: You’re more the hand squeeze the throat kinda guy.

Donnie: Another good point.

Ben: But what WERE you crying about?

Donnie: Again…(sigh)…I wan’t crying Ben. I just had some truth in my eye is all. Plus…well…I lost another one.

Ben: Sir?

Donnie: Pinky.

Ben: Pinky?

Donnie: Pruitt.

Ben: Pruitt?

Donnie: Scott Pruitt Ben! Pinky!

Ben: Oh right. Is that what the shoebox is for?

Donnie: Yeh, I gotta bury him in the backyard.

Ben: Not much room left in that backyard sir.

Donnie: No, there isn’t.

Ben: And ya gotta be running out of shoeboxes at this point.

Donnie: I know. I keep having to dump out the rocks from the ones I have left on the bookshelf.

Ben: Well I’m sure Melania or even Ivanka have plenty of taxpayer funded shoeboxes you could use. You know, to put your rocks back into? I know how much you love those shoeboxes of rocks on your bookshelf.

Donnie: Yeh, they are a point of pride.

Ben: As they should be sir.

(banging sounds and muffled moans down the tree)

“Watch his head asshole!”


“He’s gotta answer questions. Can’t do that if we keep banging his fucking head on the tree asshole!”

“So what, ya gotta repeat asshole?!”

“Well if ya are one gotta be one, just own it and stop being a dick”

“Oh, so I’m a dick now too?”

“Yeh, asshole wasn’t enough. Plus there’s a symmetry”

(Donnie and Ben rush to the treehouse door…look down)

Donnie: Hey! What the fuck is going on down there?

Paul “Risky” Ryan: (looking up holding the rope) We got one for you sir!

Donnie: One what?

(more banging and moaning)

Mitch “Marble Mouth” McConnell: We…I…got one for you double sir!

Paul: “Double sir?” Seriously?

Mitch: Yeh! I sir-ed him doubly!!

Paul: Fuck you. We got one for you triple sir! And what’s with the “I?” by the way? It’s a team effort here!!

Mitch: You want I should just drop him? (lets loose the rope a little)

Paul: Oh. like you’re just holding him on your own! (lets loose the rope a little as well – another bounce on the tree – more moans)

Mitch: Ok, Ok!

Donnie: (to Ben) Do you think I need another shoebox?

Ben: For who? Not sure if one will do.

Donnie: Hey! You’re both assholes and dicks and whatever and I don’t have enough shoeboxes or room in the backyard. Just bring it up!

(To Be Continued….)

Paul: Hold your end turtle!

(rope slips)

Mitch: Stop calling me turtle!

(rope slips further)

Mitch: And why do you call me turtle anyway?

Paul: ’cause you look like one out of its shell.

Mitch: Oh, well that’s the just mean…shit!

(rope slips a bit more)

Paul: And stop calling me risky!

Mitch: But that one’s so obvious! Check the deficit!

(rope lets go)

Paul: Son of  a bitch!!

Mitch: Told you!!

(plop sound. moans)

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